


[This world is] not a place to be on your own

by talverrar



Series: 30-love [1]
Category: Until Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Awkward Flirting, Depression Mentions and Descriptions, Everything's Fine, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Height Differences, Hide and Seek, Humor, Pansexual Josh, Pre-Game(s), Sightly AU-ish, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-05
Updated: 2015-10-04
Packaged: 2018-04-19 03:37:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4731449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talverrar/pseuds/talverrar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Josh doesn’t like diaries. He remembers what’s important and lets go of what isn't.<br/>Shameless fluff. Just snippets from their relationship as it progresses. No plot, no chronology, but some chapters are connected to each other.<br/>This ship is the worst. The Washingtons deserved better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Honey

**Author's Note:**

> [PLAYLIST.](http://8tracks.com/talverrar/no-fate-awaits-me)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For non-Americans like me:  
> 2010 - Freshman Year - Josh is 15, Sam (and everyone besides Matt, Jess and Ash, who are a year younger) is 14  
> 2011 - Sophomore Year  
> 2012 - Junior Year  
> 2013 - Senior Year

_September, 2010_

He’s relieved when Hannah brings a friend over. He was starting to suspect she couldn’t like anything but her tennis racket and Beth. She’d always keep to herself, hiding her eyes behind thick-framed glasses, hiding her diary behind her back, hiding her smile behind her hand - a habit she’d picked up because of braces. It was always Beth who got invited to parties and sleepovers, but it’s obvious she’d never attend without taking her sister with her.

Hannah wasn’t stupid, though. She knew what was up. He saw her cutting her wrists in the bathroom once.

The friend, Samantha, looks at him with a tilted head. She’s got ponytails. He thinks she’s cool enough.

“I like your hair,” he says nonchalantly, cause the twins are in the kitchen making lemonade and he kind of feels like saying something.

“Thanks. I’ve grown them myself.”

And then she smiles like it was the smartest thing to say in the history of _ever_ , and he’s very fond of people who can pull off cheesy jokes.

 

*

_April, 2011_

He comes home from school one day, only to find Beth teaching Sam how to play Bach’s prelude on the piano. She’s no good at all, her fingers stumbling and stammering, even with Beth trying to correct her as she goes. It’s a mess.

“You’re not bad,” he says when she’s done and cringing with shame.

“Oh, come on. I’ve never heard anything worse!”

“Don’t be dramatic, Sam. Your shower concertos are _way_ worse, I assure you,” Beth laughs, and they all join her.

“Gee, thanks, guys. You’re just afraid of _me_ getting better than _you_ one day,” Sam says to the girl in an accusatory tone.

“You’ve said the same thing when Hannah beat your ass on the court last weekend,” Josh points out, grinning.

Sam lets out an exasperated sigh and slams the keys. He can tell she’s not actually mad at him, though. There’s a smile hiding in that grimace.

“That’s it, assholes, I’m through with your mind-games. I’m ordering a round of Street Fighter and I’m going to crush you, one on one. And then you’re going to beg me for forgiveness. In place of a Dark Lord, you will have a queen! Not dark, but beautiful and terrible as the dawn! Treacherous as the sea, stronger than the foundations of the earth! All shall love me, and despair!”

He watches her slowly standing up on the piano stool and raising her hands dramatically, and he can’t help suddenly feeling terribly attracted to the sore loser.

 

*

_November, 2011_

They’re smoking pot in the middle of Emily’s living room. There’s not much of it for eight people (the twins are ill), but Josh’s terribly glad that Mike remembered to bring it. High Em doesn’t care whether or not Mike cheated on her last month. High Em is tolerable and wants to be hugged all the time. He briefly considers giving her his fix.

They’re watching Twilight and laughing at the sheer idiocy of it (even Jessica, who was wearing a _Team Cullen_ shirt unironically a few weeks earlier), and everything is fine until the ballet studio scene.

“Jeesh, she’s the worst. Pepper spray?” Josh exclaims loudly. Sam glances at him quizzically.

“Are you really only now realizing that? That’s not even that bad a scene. At least she’s doing something.”

“I mean, yeah,” Ashley feels like saying. Very. Slowly. “Yeah, but she’s trying to spray a vampire. He’s not even alive.”

“But he smells things? His nose is supposed to be, like, super sensitive, why shouldn’t it work?” adds Chris, desperately trying to get her attention.

“Ultra fast reflexes?” throws Mike, playing with Emily’s necklace absent-mindedly.

“She’s still better than most horror gals, nothing but tripping and hiding.”

“Matt, not everyone has the muscles to punch stuff and leave alive. Sometimes hiding is the only option.”

“Yeah, Sam, maybe, but you have to know how to do it properly,” Josh teases. Everyone in his family knew that he was the ultimate king of hide-and-seek. Mostly seek. There was something in him which made it easier to predict others’ reaction to danger. Or anything, really.

“Oh, do I smell a challenge?”

“That’s probably your fear of losing, the air got kind of heavy” he laughs at her. They both get up with grins.

“It’s just pot, you idiots,” murmurs Emily from the crook of Jessica’s neck.

He and Sam look each other in the eyes for a while, like two very feisty cats. The rest observes them like they're some very interesting zoo specimen.

“I hide, you seek, and the winner gets… what, exactly?”

“A personal slave for a week.”

“That’s grosh, Josh. ”

“Don’t you chicken out, Sammy-Whammy.”

“A weekEND and I’m in.”

“Cool. I’m counting to fifteen. You’re a hot blonde, so you should get less than that, but I promise I’ll be walking very slowly.”

“You’re such a dumbass!”

“One…”

 

\---

 

There’s a lot of rooms in Emily’s house, which makes the game so much more exciting. And, at the same time, very frustrating. He feels like he’s walking in circles, having already checked everything.

The perspective of becoming a servant for two and a half days for Sam isn’t really that bad a deal. That’s two and a half days spent with her.

He stops for a second because of the abrupt weirdness of this thought. What did he mean by that? Would he say the same thing about Chris or Mike? Did he ever think like this about his last ex? Or does he treat her like a sister, a part of the family? Shit, crap, does he think like this about his sisters?!

Oh, thank fuck, no. It was only a crush. A crush on Sammy.

He thinks that everything is better than the sudden realization of how deep his feelings run, but the literal weight suddenly pinning him to the floor was not at the top of the list.

Sam is laughing like mad, triumphant and warm and perfect on top of him. She kisses him on the tip of the nose, and he’s too dumbfounded to say a single word.

So she briefly brushes her lips with his, and before he manages to register that fact, she starts laughing some more, screaming obscenities about how she got him.

And, yeah. She got him good.

 

*

_December, 2011_

It’s weird, but he’s not used to having his parents at home. They’re both alright, it’s just so… odd. The twins seem to share this sentiment, so they end up staying up late in his room, watching terrible horror movies. Beth gets weirdly into it. Hannah, on the other hand…

“Look, I’m just saying. You two would totally look great together.”

“Has Nicholas Sparks _totally_ ruined your brain? My condolences.”

“I know what I’m talking about, Josh! Don’t be an idiot about it, ok? I see how she looks at you when you’re doing that awful impression of Freddy Krueger.”

“Probably because my impressions are flawless, thank you very much!”

“She’s into you, you blind egomaniac!”

“Hey, could you two argue somewhere else?” groans Beth, and for a while they’re quiet.

“I know you feel the same way,” sing-songs Hannah, and he feels his cheeks reddening against his will. “You‘re always around when she’s taking a shower. Do tell, wanna steal her clothes and watch her run around naked?”

It’s too much. The butterflies in his stomach, the heat of his face, his vivid imagination... There are certain things he should not be expected to be able to handle.

“Yeah, maybe, but at least I’m not pining over a guy who’s taken and doesn’t even know I exist!”

Some distressed woman screams in pain, but none of them care. The silence between them is deafening. They’re holding their breaths.

Beth punches him in the arm, and he mumbles “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

Tears streaming down Hannah’s face are turquoise in the light of the tv.

 

*

_January, 2012_

“You should totally ask Ashley out. Dude, what’s the worst that could happen? It's just some stupid dance.”

“You’re so boring, man. I’m just not going to. And I’m not going anywhere, period. I hate dancing.”

He and Chris are sitting in the corner of Mike’s living room, drinking Heineken. The music’s loud, the colorful lights are blending into one, beautiful rainbow in his hazing vision. And at the end of it…

“What about you and Sam? Did _you_ grow some balls recently?”

He observes her as she’s dancing the tango with Hannah, not minding how it doesn’t match the music. She’s the dominating one, and instead of a rose, there’s an iphone in her mouth. His sister is laughing so hard that if it wasn’t for Sam’s strong arms, they’d both be on the floor.

He tries to ditch the ‘strong arms’ train of thought, but fails miserably. There’s a weird sensation in his stomach, which he tries to drown with another large sip. Chris pats him on the shoulder in a comforting fashion.

“Much sad. Very love. Wow.”

They watch Jessica trying to twerk in thoughtful silence.


	2. Bathing Bird

_May, 2012_

He doesn’t quite get Sam’s obsession with being clean. No, that wasn’t it. She doesn’t really mind getting dirty, she climbs mountains as a hobby after all. And she’s not one of those weirdos afraid of germs or whatever either. It was hard not to notice however, that whenever she was staying over, she would take a bath or a shower at some point. Sometimes it lasted less than three minutes. It was as if she were a whale stuck on a beach.

He shares this observation with her while they’re waiting for Hannah to finish her tennis practice. She punches him lightly on the arm with an awestruck grin.

“You did not think for one second that this isn't the most clever thing to say to a girl?” she asks, but she can’t help but laugh.

“Come on, Sammy, you know what I meant. Like, you have got to keep it wet or it dies.”

“You mean… like a _plant_? Why couldn’t you just compare me to a plant?”

“Hey, calm down, whale hater, what’s your problem? You know how you look, don’t act like you’re insecure all of a sudden.”

She raises one eyebrow.

“And how do I look?”

He rolls his eyes. He lives with two teenage girls, is she really expecting him to swallow the bait?

“Stop begging for compliments, it’s unworthy of you.”

“...Alright. If I get ran over by a truck tomorrow, the only thing you will be thinking about is that you’ve made me think I was fat.”

As if he’d be able to think about anything at all if that took place.

“This literally never happened.”

“Come _on_ , Joshua! Take the whale back and let’s be done with it!”

“I can’t really do that, our aquarium isn’t nearly big enough.”

She punches him again and he winces jokingly. Well, not entirely, Sam’s very strong even when she’s holding back.

“Samantha, please. You’re blowing this out of proportion just to feel better about yourself. I never get complimented and yet I live. No deadly trucks in sight.”

He regrets saying that the second she looks at him. They’re close, almost elbow to elbow. Her eyes are the color of a deep pond in the middle of a forest. He swears they glitter in the sun.

“Your lips are amazing,” she says somewhat awkwardly, and looks away. “I mean… Jess wouldn’t shut up about them. Back when she was crushing on you, that is.”

He rests his head on his hands and leans back with a crooked grin. He feels like laughing.

“And when was that, exactly?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe she’s still into you.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Huh. And what else does she like about me?”

He can only see Sam’s right ear. It’s red, like a ripe apple. He fantasizes about biting into it.

“Oh, I don’t know. That you’re tall. Maybe.”

“Maybe I am.”

“And that your hair looks soft. And fluffy.”

“So I’m just an eye-candy for her? How disappointing.”

“You know how it is. You can’t have it all. Some of us are beautiful jerks who don’t know how to give _or receive_ compliments, and some are whales with hearts of gold.”

He breaks out in a belly laugh at that, and nudges her knee with his. She glances at him, delightfully pink.

“God, Sammy. You were pretty convincing, but next time remember who my sisters are. I’d be the first to know if someone from our gang had a crush on me. Especially if that someone was my sister’s best friend.”

She looks at him, startled. And redder.

“What do you mean?” she asks, nursing every word as if she didn’t really want an answer.

“What could I?” he feigns surprise. “Jess and Beth. They’re pretty much joined by the hip. Jessica tells her everything ever since that awkward fight between her and Emily. Hey, is everything ok?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m just… thirsty.”

“Oh, I bet you are.”

...

"Was that about me being a fish again?"

"Whales are mammals, actually."

"You're dead to me."

 


	3. Connection I

_December, 2012_

He hates the cold. If it was up to him, he’d gladly sleep through the winter. And that’s what he usually does when they go to their estate in Canada. He watches the vile white flakes fall from behind the window. He sips his coffee (it’s not the best addiction to have considering that caffeine doesn’t go well with his meds, but feels even worse without it), asks Hannah to cover his feet with a blanket, listens to his parents arguing over a round of scrabbles (“That’s not how you spell daiquiri!”). Cold glass against his forehead works miracles for headaches. He dozes off. He’s comfortable, if not content.

Not this winter. This winter he is being tortured.

It’s the first time their parents let them invite some friends over. So they do. But Chris gets sick and Jess hates the cold and in the end only Sam is ok with being under parental supervision for a whole week. Their overnight flight to Toronto lasts four hours. They don’t talk much, trying to get some sleep in their first-class seats.

They make up for it during a long drive to the Washington Mountain. Sam sits in the front to make conversations easier. (“It’s so nice to have someone to talk to this time around. Joshua is always so sleepy during car rides, and the girls can’t put their phones down for three seconds!”) He feels like dying, but settles for feigning sleep instead. The twins are asleep before they even hit the highway.

His parents never had a chance to interview Sam properly. There was always something to do at home or for work. They knew where she lived, that her parents were lower middle class, that she’s an only child and a vegan. And if anyone cared to ask Josh about his opinion on the matter, he’d say that it was enough.

Nobody cared.

It starts innocently enough. What’s her favourite sport (volleyball), if she prefers beaches over mountains (she likes both, but she got into climbing recently and would like to spend more time doing that), her favourite animal (can’t choose, but would like to have a dog one day. Josh’s allergic to fur).

But then his father has to start asking her about past relationships. Considering that he’s working on a new movie about teenagers and neither of his daughters are dating, it is perfectly understandable. Josh feels justified when he starts quietly banging his head against the car glass in frustration.

Jesus, fuck.

 

\---

 

It’s weird seeing how well they all get along. Sam’s passion for environmental activism is something that greatly interests his mother. They discuss various charity organisations (PETA is the devil, apparently) for what feels like an eternity. She makes his dad laugh so hard that his mom snaps at him to watch the road. One of Beth’s headphones falls out from her ear and he lets the muffled sound of Nocturnes lull him to sleep.

 

\---

 

“It couldn’t have had been easy on him,” he hears Sam saying, her voice barely louder than a whisper. She sounds… wet. Not the good kind. “And on you, of course. Family’s support is so, so important.”

“He was never a particularly happy child to begin with, but we’d assumed that’s just… Some people are just like that. I feel like we’ve had been warned and yet acted too late.”

“Looking for someone or something to blame is never a way out, Mrs. Washington. It’s a way in - into the spiral. And I know what happens when you get close to the bottom.”

“We’re all trying to move on, Sam. Easier said then done. But he seems to get along with his current therapist. And he’s been taking the same meds for a few years now. Little blessings.”

There is a while of poignant silence. He’s trying to maintain a breathing rhythm of an asleep person, but a part of him wants Sam to back look over the seat, straight into his wide-open eyes.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the angst, I've been crying over Josh's psychiatric evaluation. Next part = fluff! This one is short, but I won't be able to write much this week, so have at least this. Thank you all for showering we with kindness, it means a lot!!!


	4. Connection II

_December, 2012_

He realizes his mother is starting to tell that one cringe-worthy anecdote from his childhood and he decides he’s been through enough. He yawns loudly and obnoxiously stretches his back, shaking off Beth’s drooling head. She looks like she wants to kill him after she remembers what universe she’s in, but it’s worth it - mom stutters. 

“Hello, sleepyhead,” Sam says, turning her head to meet his eyes between the car door and her seat.

“Hey,” he mumbles, his voice hoarse and groggy. She raises her eyebrows and, for some reason, turns her head away. “Are you enjoying yourself? Want to kill my parents yet?”

“Joshua!” mom exclaims, flabbergasted.

“I’m only asking if you forced her to play one of your little games.”

“They didn’t,” says Beth, with a pinch of cheekiness in her voice that instantly reminds him of all the pranks they used to play on Hannah. “Otherwise she’d be all bruised from trying to get out of the car.”

They high-five.

“How wonderful to have you both in the world of the alive, Brutus and Judas,” chimes in dad. “No smores for you this evening.”

“And we were only sharing embarrassing stories of your early years, rascals. We were just getting started, actually,” mom threatens. “I was about to tell your sweet friend how Josh would-”

“Alright, fine!” he panics, but it wasn’t the kind of panic that kept him up all night, shaking, heart beating erratically. This panic makes him feel warm. “We’d love to play a game. Right, Bethy?”

“Oh, I don’t know, if this is about the dinosaurs, I’d like Sam to-”

“You know what comes after the dinosaurs. That time when you performed the Pokemon theme to-”

“Oh, yeah, games are fun, everyone loves games!” Beth squeaks, covering his face with her hand. Everyone laughs. He licks her fingers viciously and she jumps away.

“Gross!”

He sticks his tongue out.

“Don’t you worry, dear, you can take your revenge by winning!” mom says cheerfully. “What do you want to play? Movie trivia? You won’t take me down as easily as last year!”

“Sweetcheeks, you didn’t know who _Kubrick_ was last year. I think you should opt for something else,” chimes in dad. Josh laughs.

“Yeah, there’s no way to beat dad anyway,” he says, and moves closer to Sam’s shoulder to stage whistle to her. “Hannah asked him about some chick flick and he even knew the year of its premiere.”

“It was about a critically acclaimed classic, _When Harry met Sally_. You shouldn’t dismiss movies based on their presumed genre, son.”

“He made us watch _Pride and Prejudice_ five times. He always cries during the rain scene. It’s embarrassing, really.”

“The BBC one or the 2005 version?” asks Sam. 

“The one with Keira Knightley,” answers mr. Washington. “I liked what the director was going for. It had better characterization.”

“Oh, I disagree. I think Colin Firth nailed Mr. Darcy.”

Josh and Beth gasp in unison. 

“Don’t you tell me you actually _like_ the movies Hannah makes us watch!”

He sees her shoulders shrug. 

“Oh my God. Guys. Sam is the Disney Princess cliché!”

Beth gasps again, playing along as always.

“I am what?” Sam turns, amused and amazed by his goofiness. 

“You love animals, you’re pretty, you’re nice to _everyone_ , you like romance-”

“Sounds like literally everyone I know!”

“You talk about leaving America in search of _something more_ and always disappear from parties before midnight!”

“That’s only because I don’t own a car and dad has to-”

“Oh, I’m sorry, don’t you have to sing about it?”

“Please, somebody stop her from singing,” mumbles Hannah sleepily, and dad has to stop the car cause he’s been silently laughing the entire time and started choking.

 

\---

 

The snow starts falling about the time they start juggling with luggage. It’s all very messy and troublesome. He and Sam end up taking the biggest bag and she teases him for being weaker and that she’s pretty much carrying it by herself. He drops his end to make a point and she drags it with a smile, making it look as effortless as the athletes on tv when they perform a somersault or some shit.

He makes an offhand comment about it, but secretly finds it very hot.

 

\---

 

After unpacking and a quick dinner (spaghetti bolognese for the Washingtons, pasta with tomato sauce for Sam), his parents go to sleep. He knows it’s a slang word for fucking cause they suggest a movie to watch. Good for them, he thinks. They don’t spend much time with each other outside of work.

The twins argue whether they should watch  _Skyfall_ or  _Magic Mike_ and Sam looks a bit lonely, so he touches the back of her neck. She shivers as expected, but he only wants to get her attention. He gestures her to stay quiet and come with him.

He leads her upstairs, shushing her the entire time. They end up standing in front of the main bathroom door. He can tell she’s dying of curiosity. 

He wasn’t planning on it, but now he has to.

“I’m going to have to close your eyes.”

“Why?” 

He likes that she doesn’t object, just questions.

“I don’t know, I just feel like it.”

“Oh. Here I was hoping that you’ve brought me here to join the Illuminati.”

“Nah, I’m more of an anti-globalism person. Taking down major corporations, you know.”

“You doing that from behind of these door?”

“Some nights. When I’m not too busy shedding my reptilian skin.”

“I knew it!”

“Sure you did, Sammy,” he says and covers her eyes with his hand. He opens the door with the other. She moves where he steers her, and a wave of affection runs through him like a warm waterfall. She trusts him. Completely.

He turns the lights on and lets go of her. She opens her eyes.

Her smile is contagious.

“Oh my god, it’s so big!” she exclaims happily. 

“I-”

“Don’t you dare, Josh! Don’t you ruin this moment for me! Can I use it?” 

“I was going to say that I can get you some candles if you want to make a deal out of it,” he lies. “The bath needs to get a bit cleaned up, though. It’s been five months.”

“Yeah, thanks, go find the candles, I can wipe it alright.”

“You-”

“Josh, I’m begging you!”

But her eyes are gleaming and he swears he can die a happy man just for making her this ecstatic. He turns around and leaves, because not kissing her this instant feels a bit like dying.

 

\---

 

She comes down to them clad in PJs, all fruity-smelling and warm and damp, just in time for credits. 

“Hey there, human raisin,” says Hannah, inviting her to sit between her and her sister. None of them really liked the cinema seats dad decided to install, they only got in the way of eating popcorn together. Instead, they sat on a picnic blanket, their backs against the seats.

“We’ve been worried that a sea witch has stolen your legs and you couldn’t get up,” Beth adds, and the siblings chuckle.

“Har har har. Fear not, I was just avoiding you.”

“We’re wounded,” scoffs Hannah, and embraces her with one arm.

“What are we watching now?”

“Josh wants a dick flick. _Battleships_ , was it?”

He shrugs.

“Rihanna’s in it.”

“Wasn’t she also in that cheerleader movie?”

“Yeah, and it was shit,” mumbles Sam sleepily. “Let’s see it.”

“Oh, come on, you can’t do that! I never choose movies anymore!”

“You had had nothing against democracy when Beth was on your side, Joshy. Live with your choices.”

“Don’t drag me into it, I’m out,” announces his other sister as she gets up and leaves. He can hear her curse as she’s trying to get upstairs in the dark.

He ends up watching the damn thing, but there’s a pretty blonde lead, so he doesn’t feel like a total loser. Halfway through it he starts feeling a little cold, so the gets a blanket and they squeeze together. Him, Sam, Hannah. 

And then, because everything in his life has become a cliché, they end up falling asleep. And because he inhales Sam’s shampoo the entire night, he ends up having dreams with her in a cheerleader costume. And because of that, he is certain, he’ll never be able to look her in the eye while she’s wearing a skirt. 

(Not that he ever could.) 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's so reference-heavy and meta I'm amazed it didn't crush my flat's fourth wall when I was writing it. Only one more chapter in the lodge, then we're off to the new year's party!


	5. Connection III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All aboard the fluff/angst train, choo-choo...

_December, 2012_

He’s used to seeing Sam in her pajamas in the morning, but eating breakfast like this is strangely new. He wonders if it’s because of his parents. It feels nice, it feels… correct. He makes her laugh so hard she ends up spitting her orange juice. Through her nose.

She persuades Hannah to go for a morning jog with her. He suspects she just wants an excuse to use the bathtub again later, but she seems serious about it. Took her workout clothes and everything. They make her ass look fantastic.

He, Beth and dad watch a movie in the meantime. It’s their usual pastime, and they always start with whatever got the FIPRESCI award at the Venice Film Festival. Every once in a while dad would stop the movie and help them deconstruct a scene. How the lighting influences the picture, the secrets of perfect composition, how the special effects are done. Sounds boring, but is actually pretty fun. Especially when it gets competitive.

His mother only joins them when they’re watching something she’d already seen. She thinks their way of watching is distracting. She spends most of the time reading and writing, which technically means that she’s still at work, but she doesn’t seem to mind.

Hannah and Sam come back two hours later, cheeks and noses red, clothes covered in snow, teeth chattering, giggling like insane. Dad gets angry at them for wanting to catch a cold and hits them with a blanket a few times. I only makes them laugh harder as they run away to the bathroom. 

He knows he’s got the goofiest grin on his face when he glances at Beth. Her knowing look makes his stomach twist. 

They sit in silence for a moment, waiting for dad to come back.

“You should go for it,” Beth says predictably. 

“You should shut up.”

She sighs.

“I don’t understand why you’re so afraid.”

“You’re right, you don’t.”

“Josh, for fuck’s sake, if this is about your illness-”

“Beth-”

“You’ve been making googly eyes at each other for what, a year? Two years now? Do you want to confess on her deathbed in a nursing home?”

“Beth, I swear to-”

“Josh, listen, I’m not Hannah. I’m not delusional and I honestly couldn’t care less about romance. What I know, though, is that if you don’t hurry, someone else is going to snatch her from right under your nose. It’s a miracle she’s still single.”

“I’m not going to make her my nurse, Beth!” he yells, and he doesn’t care. Doesn’t care who hears him or what they think of his hopeless crush. “I’m not some poor, vulnerable guy who needs a _woman's touch_ to magically get better! I’m not missing a leg, I’m out of my mind! You think I could force this burden upon her? How fucked up would that be?! How selfish?!”

He’s breathing like he just ran a marathon, and he feels like doing just that. He gets up, puts on his shoes, grabs his coat and storms out of the house.

It’s cold outside and the snow is falling on his bare head, and he thinks that if he would just stand still long enough, it would cover him whole, layer after layer.

He imagines his dead body like this, frozen, still, made of snow, a snowman. In his vision his nose falls off, and Sam puts a carrot in its place.

He laughs. And then he cries. And then he runs.

 

\---

 

They find him much later. He gets yelled at for not answering his phone, then for not taking his phone, and then for freezing his ass off. Hannah and Beth take each of his hands and lead him home like a blind man. Everyone is strangely silent.

He feels nothing.

 

\---

 

He falls asleep by the window in his usual spot. Hannah tucks him in with a blanket. Mom makes him a cup of chicken soup. Beth apologizes for cornering him, but not for what she’d said. She plays him a lullaby on some mobile piano app.

He falls asleep wondering if Sam thinks differently of him, now that she’s seen what he’s really like. How fucked up he is. How undeserving.

He falls asleep to the sound of his dad trying to yell and whisper at the same time. He sounds like a very angry snake who doesn’t know how to spell ‘quarantine’.

He falls asleep, and then he wakes up to the sensation of having his hair stroked softly. He doesn’t want it to stop. He keeps his eyes shut. Keeping his eyes shut helped him on many occasions already.

Regardless, the hand stops after a while, and he lets out a small sigh of disappointment. 

He opens his eyes and prepares for Sam to leave altogether, flustered and startled. But she goes back to petting him, eyes locked on his. There’s kindness in them. And something else.

She looks unearthly in the pale light of the moon. She observes him from under her long eyelashes, and it would be unsettling if it was anyone but her. But it is her. He’s almost certain.

They spend a small eternity like this, and he falls in love a little deeper with every stroke of her strong, calloused hand. He’s afraid to blink.

And then she lays her head on his pillow, and they’re almost nose to nose, almost mouth to mouth. He can smell her minty breath. He’d rather not think of his own. 

Her hand changes angle, and she’s caressing his ear, his cheek, his jaw, his neck. He doesn’t dare to move.

She does.

Now they’re nose to nose.

Now they’re mouth to mouth. 

Time pauses. In that moment she is the moon, shining a little too brightly, and he has to close his eyes. The earth stops its movement on its axis. 

They stay still for a while, just breathing. Trying to comprehend. Touching. Like the kids on vintage Valentine’s Day postcards Hannah used to collect. He can feel her pulse.

Swiftly, he helps her climb on top of him, the blanket falling down in the process. Her feet are ice cold and he shivers. She whimpers, and he starts kissing her as best as he can, anything to make her sound like this again, to make her shiver for different reasons, to make himself forget about why they cannot work out. 

It’s messy, and hot, and her hands are in his hair and his are on her back, pushing her closer to him. He wishes he could mold their bodies together, to never be apart again. They’re breathing loudly through their noses, and it’s strangely erotic. Everything about them together is strangely erotic.

He forces her to slow down, the fingers on her back making slow, delicate circles. She shudders like a cat, and melts. They’re still kissing, but less like they’re about to die of thirst, more like people who have each other memorized. He hugs her tighter, closer, and he knows his tight embrace must be almost painful now, but he cannot bring himself to let go.

He’s got this weird, strangling sensation in his throat. It feels exactly like crying, except not at all.

 

\---

 

They don’t talk about it at all in the following days. It’s not weird between them, and he’s grateful for that. It’s as if someone popped a balloon and released all the compressed air.  


Except that he can’t stop thinking about her lips whenever she jokes with him, and he catches her looking at his own whenever she thinks he doesn’t notice. But it’s not weird, it feels right. It feels correct.

 

\---

 

Of course they get into a snowball fight.

Of course it’s them against the twins. 

Of course they win. 

And when the losers leave them alone to gloat, they kiss so feverishly they fall down, straight into a snowdrift.

When they are on their way back, she shoves a fistful of snow down his collar.

He’s in love.

 


	6. An almost something I

_December, 2012_

Josh and Sam don’t see each other for several days after they all come back from Canada. He doesn’t text her, doesn’t Skype her, doesn’t check his Facebook.

He doesn’t sleep, but he doesn’t feel awake, either.

 

\---

 

His parents are starting to suspect that the hissy fit of his (back at the lodge) wasn’t exactly that. He tries to calm them down by eating more.

He throws up later that evening. Nobody notices. The house is too big for everyone to know what the rest is doing. It’s a bit like living on a deserted island, except there’s an archipelago of other tiny islands minutes away. Not that it makes him feel less alone.

He muses texting his shrink, but doesn’t feel like turning on his phone.

If he acts like the issue doesn’t exist, it’ll just pass him by.

 

\---

 

He stops making his bed. There’s no point; he spends his entire days in it. Sleeping, faking sleep, watching movies. Thinking.

His room is starting to look more and more like a cave. He doesn’t mind. He doesn’t mind anything anymore much.

His head hurts.

He wants to talk to Sam. He really shouldn’t talk to Sam.

 

\---

 

Hannah finds him on the bathroom floor in the middle of the night. He promises her to talk to his doctor. She promises to not tell their parents. She wants him to go to Emily’s for a New Year’s party with her and Beth.

He agrees just to get her out of the room.

 

\---

 

— _Sammy, 12.22.12 11:24am_

“hey, wanna hang out?”

 

— _Sammy, 12.23.12 10:32pm_

“please tell me i dind’t ruin everything”

 

— _Sammy, 12.24.12 1:36am_

“are u ok?????”

 

— _Josh, 12.25.12 3:02pm_

“Yup sorry I was busy :P”

 

— _Sammy, 12.25.12 3:03pm_

“oh thank god”

 

— _Sammy, 12.25.12 3:08pm_

“are we ok?”

 

\---

 

_Purple in the morning, blue in the afternoon, and orange in the evening. Just like that, one, two, three, four._

 

_\---_

 

— _Josh, 12.25.12 3:10pm_

“I dont think my meds are working anymore”

 

— _Catlady, 12.25.12 3:14am_

“ You should visit me in the office asap. I can’t do much about it with you in the US. Did you tell your parents? How are you feeling?”

 

— _Josh, 12.25.12 3:18pm_

“I will. After new years. Not yet”

 

— _Josh, 12.25.12 3:19pm_

“I’m nauseous. Anxious. Something happened”

 

— _Catlady, 12.25.12 3:12am_

“Do you want me to call, Josh?”

 

— _Josh, 12.25.12 5:21pm_

“Yes”

 

\---

 

His cheeks are damp and his voice is hoarse from whispering, but he feels slightly less disoriented. His hands aren’t shaking. He can actually form coherent thoughts.

Maybe he _was_ being unreasonable. Maybe he wouldn’t become a burden to her. Maybe he could make her happy. Maybe her happiness would be contagious and he-

He remembers the misery of his parents when they’d found out about his suicide attempt. He remembers his sisters, trying to hide annoyance when he wouldn’t leave his room for months. He remembers the boredom of waiting rooms. The feeling of guilt every time he wanted to change his doctor, his meds, himself. He was nothing but trouble. She did not deserve to see this. Did not deserve to be forced into attending this pity party.

 

\---

 

— _Josh, 12.25.12 7:19pm_

“Haha come on Sam sure we are”

 

— _Josh, 12.25.12 7:20pm_

“You worry way too much”

 

— _Josh, 12.25.12 7:22pm_

“Our friendship can hardly be ruined by hormones right?”

 

— _Sam, 12.25.12 7:49pm_

“hormones?”

 

\---

 

Planning calms him down better than any session with Dr. North ever did. When he was struggling with his previous therapist’s bullshit and was considering self-harm, he made Hannah a music box. In 2008 he made a stop-motion movie. A few months ago he organized a big, old Hollywood themed party for his parents’ anniversary. Ages ago he helped Chris make his first app.

So he focuses. He plans. He hurts.

 

\---

 

— _Sam, 12.26.12 0:49am_

“are you kidding me????”

 

\---

 

Beth must have talked to Hannah about their fight, because neither of them say anything about Sam on their way to the party. They probably don’t realize how suspicious they are being. Teasing him about his crush was a part of their daily routine, like fighting over clothes or brushing teeth. He wonders if this is how it’s always going to be after tonight. Silent car rides and elephants in the room. Disappointment. Pity. Sympathetic gazes.

He smiles, and he can feel his facial muscles protest. He smiles harder.

“You guys look nice. Em is going to be pissed.”

The twins look at each other suspiciously.

“Thanks, I guess,” says Beth carefully, her fingers on the steering wheel dancing to the rhythm of Scherzo Tarantelle. “Why would you say that?”

“Because she owns a dress just like yours, Bethy.”

She stops the car, a panicked look on her face.

“Please, please tell me-”

“I’m just kidding,” he laughs, and it’s only half-forced. Hannah joins him, and the cold atmosphere seems to fade away.

He can’t have them worried.

 

\---

 

Emily’s house is impressive as always. There’s a tunnel made of branches, lit by strings of Christmas lights, leading straight to her doorstep. It seems to go on forever, speckling their faces with color. The building itself glitters, covered in hundreds of blue LED lights. Josh wonders briefly if anyone of his friends is an epileptic.

The doors are open, and a gigantic Christmas tree greets them in the hall. Some strangers are kissing under the mistletoe. The music is pumping in his ears. He gets the biggest urge to open the 400$ champagne bottle he’s holding and drink it. Alone. At once.

They follow the sounds of people and end up in the backyard.

There’s a swimming pool and a DJ and everyone is underage, but Emily somehow got a barman to serve everyone drinks, and in the back of his head he wonders how hard it must be for her to live with parents who give her money instead of attention. He drowns the thought with beer.

The twins take the bottle from him and leave to look for Emily and maybe some other familiar faces, but Josh knows that if he wants to see Chris, he should stick to the bar, and if he wants to see Sam, he needs to actively avoid her. He’s almost done with his cup when his friend approaches him.

“‘Sup, Mike? Good to see you,” he says to the man with red marks on his neck.

“Good to see you too, bro. How’s Canada, the house still stands or did it get trampled by mooses?”

“It’s moose, you goof. It’s alright, I’m looking forward to not seeing my parents till summer.”

Mike laughs. Mike is alright.

“To busy parents, then!”

They drink.

It’s warm outside. He doesn’t feel like it is, but everyone else seems fine. He even overhears someone pondering swimming in the pool. The voice seems familiar.

“Oh, cool, Matt’s here,” Mike says, more to himself than to Josh. “I gotta discuss something with him.”

“I’ll catch you later,” he promises, not caring in particular whether he will or not.

He glances at his watch. It’s almost time for Sam to show up.

And, because he thought it, she walks through the door the next second.

Her dress is short, strapless and red, the vibrant kind, the one that makes you think of fire instead of blood, and it’s so very _Sam_ he knocks over his cup with his hand. It doesn’t matter. His hand is wet, and a girl sitting next to him makes upset noises, but he can’t look away. He cannot move, but that doesn’t matter either. This time the flame comes to the moth.

He sends her a crooked grin.

“What’s up, buttercup?”

She looks relieved.

“All’s well, cockerel,” she smiles, as if she knows how it’s making his heart race. “Have you seen Chris mayhaps? I was supposed to make sure he and Ash end up bumping into each other at some point.”

“Bumping what, exactly?”

“Har-har, you perv. Ash is fifteen,” she reminds him, half-horrified, half-Sam.

“As if she doesn’t fantasize about it every time she asks him to fix her computer.”

“Oh my God, let me unhear that!”

They laugh, they drink some fizzy drinks, they talk about nothings. They’re not actively ignoring the topic - they just never seem to run out of subjects, of ways to tease each other, of things to laugh about.

He sees Chris approaching them from the corner of his eye, but his sisters stop him. He predicted that they would, but it also means he's almost out of time.

He orders another drink. His head is buzzing pleasantly, but that’s not nearly enough.

He lets the silence fall between them like a gentleman’s glove.

“So,” starts Sam, face slightly flushed with alcohol. “How have you been?”

Did the twins keep their mouths shut for the first time in his life? He doubted.

“Caught some winter blues. Never thought that people in LA can really be affected by seasons, but I guess I’m the living proof.”

She nods in sympathy, but he knows that wasn’t what she really asked about.

“You have been acting a bit… weird. Lately. I thought it was because of me, to be honest.”

“Why would that be?” he asks, acting surprised. His heart clenches painfully.

“You know. Friends don’t… Well, maybe… It’s just,” she takes a deep breath and smiles sardonically. “We kind of kissed.”

“Huh. Really? When?”

She slaps his arm.

“Oh, that time. And that time. And back then. Yeah, I think I remember,” he smiles. “It’s not like it was that big a deal, though.”

She looks like she’s eager to slap his face now. He wishes she would. He feels dirty.

“Not that big a deal,” she repeats grimly.

“Yeah, I mean… we were tired, the setting was romantic, we’re young and beautiful… I can’t really blame us.”

“Huh,” she just says, her eyes sharp as daggers.

He drinks his cup in one go.

“Yeah.”

“So… we’re friends.”

“Sure, Sammy. Sure we are.”

“And you don’t want us to be more,” she states, but he can tell she’s uncertain. There’s something in her eyes he can’t quite name.

“Not really, no. Unless you mean friends with benefits,” he grins, and she doesn’t. And he hates himself more than ever before.

“Well, I need to go find my sisters. I’ll see you in a bit.”

He stands up. He didn’t feel drunk until this very moment. The floor is slightly spinning, but he’s alright. He’s alright.

Queen’s song is playing in the distance. He feels _away_. Detached. But this is not a right moment to mope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't like this chapter tbh, but we have to get through this to get to some better parts. Thanks, everyone who's still reading this thing! It's not quite the fluff train I promised but there's no way I can just ignore Josh's illness for the sake of romance. Plus, I promise it all ends well.  
> Next update tomorrow!  
> EDIT: I'm a filthy filthy liar, pls enjoy my other fics while I drown in real life responsibilities  
> (I'm lying nothing's going on I just need to rethink where I want the next chapter to go)


	7. An almost something II

_December, 2012_

Hannah is joking with some guy animatedly, with Beth leaning against the wall nearby. The latter is drinking their champagne straight from the bottle, clearly bored out of her mind. They both wave enthusiastically when they see him.

“You don’t look too good.”

“That’s a shame, cause I feel fantastic. You should probably go find Sam, Han. Don’t tell her I sent you.”

Beth looks at him with disbelief.

“How badly did you fuck up?”

“Very.”

“Are you proud of yourself?”

“Rather.”

Hannah frowns and leaves without saying a word.

The siblings walk away from the crowd and hide in one of the bathrooms.

She lets out a big sigh as she fixes her eyeliner.

“You know I know what this is about. I’m not going to interfere, but you’re being unfair.”

“Sorry, Beth, I’ll try to be more considerate in the future by being less fucking crazy.”

She rolls her eyes and lights up a cigarette. He takes it from her when she offers.

He’s feeling nauseous again. He knows he shouldn’t be drinking, but puking from too much alcohol is somehow more dignifying than doing so because of his meds. He supposes that it’s because the former usually is preceded by some level of fun.

“And you’re gonna leave it at that. And you expect Sam to, what, casually flirt with you till the end of time?”

“The entire point is that I don’t expect shit from her.”

“No, the entire point is that you don’t allow her to take a chance at-”

“Fixing me?” he barks and chokes on smoke.

“At making your life a little better. You’re not a toy, Josh. And none of us think that you’re broken.”

“Well, maybe because you don’t sit in my head. You don’t know what I’m like. _I_ know what I’m like.”

“Christ. I wish I were Hannah, she could list you hundreds of reasons why your way of thinking is wrong based on every chick-flick she’s ever watched.”

“Oh, I had no idea that Hollywood is so keen on mental people finding love and happy endings,” he shows his teeth in a parody of a grin. “What would the first example be, _Beauty and the Beast_?”

“We do have a kickass library.”

They stare at each other, neither particularly amused.

“Look, I’m not your shrink, but even I know that you’re doing this as some kind of… punishment. Anyway, you’re underestimating us. You’re underestimating _her_. If you could only try-”

“Get out.”

“Josh, come on-”

“I need to pee, get out,” he bellows, pushing her out of the bathroom.

He closes the door and sits on the edge of the bathtub, head between hands, rocking slowly to the muffled sound of music.

He needs to focus. There are only two possible immediate outcomes. Either he lets go of Sam completely, at least romantically, or he takes the chance and risks not only his so-called mental stability (breakups are messy) and their friendship.

His fingers are shaking. The unfinished cigarette is burning softly on the floor. He tries to remember the breathing exercises his current therapist had taught him, but everything's a blur. He can’t move. His saliva tastes of ash.

 

\---

 

Soft knocking on the door startles him.

“Hey man, it’s Chris. Beth told me I would find you here. Everything k?”

He opens the door with a sigh. Chris looks weirdly sober, probably because they didn’t bump into each other earlier. What a lame party, anyway.

“Sorry cochise, insert a poop joke here. What’s new?”

He listens to his ravings about Curiosity rover’s twitter half-heartedly as they walk outside. There’s about fifty people there now. He recognizes some of the faces from school, but has no idea why they would be here, aside from creating a background noise for the host.

They move through the crowd. In the corner of his eye he sees Ashley and Matt dancing to _Gangam style_ by the pool. Relax, he tells himself. You’re having fun right now. This is so much fun. You’ve never been better.

Smile, god damn it.

“Dude? Everything really ok? I thought you liked space puns.”

“Ah, sorry. I was distracted.”

“Distracted by what?”

He groans internally. He’s really not in the mood.

“Look around you, man,” he laughs, not at all like a person who’s dead inside. “All those lovely little asses just waiting for us to make a move! Why wouldn’t I be distracted?”

His friend looks at him worryingly.

“...Aaanyway,” Chris slaps his hand away when he reaches for some poor girl’s arm and shoves him forward. “Sam said you are scared of talking to her.”

“Sam is silly,” he shrugs, and his stomach twists. “I’m only scared of three things.”

“Snakes, deep ocean and Uwe Boll directing _Diablo_ one day, I know.”

“Precisely, my friend. No room for gynephobia there!”

“Still,” he says as they sit down at the bar. “It’s weird for you to not want to hang out with her. You’re pretty much joined by the hip. I’m almost jealous.”

“Never be, cochise, what we have is something way more special.”

“Awwh.”

“Awwh.”

They drink a shot.

“For real, though. Did something happen? You've been radio silent ever since your winter funtimes. Did she not get along with your parents or something?”

“Nah, on the contrary. They were willing to adopt her. Promising to fund her Machu Picchu hiking adventure if she joins the family.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I wish. She almost broke when they mentioned getting a corgi.”

“I thought you were allergic.”

“I’m hella allergic, but she genuinely gives a fuck about whatever it is that my mum does. And now she’s on a first-name basis with her.”

“Damn,” sighs Chris. “I’ve recently caught my mother texting Ashley about some book she wanted to borrow. She never talks to _me_ about books.”

“Here’s to lame parents and even lamer friends,” Josh says, drinking another shot.

 

\---

 

— _Sam, 12.31.12 23:1_ _0_ _pm_

“hey lameboy I want to talk”

 

\---

 

Chris’ mere presence must be intoxicating in itself, because he’s dizzy after another two shots. He makes him order water for the next few rounds. Josh’s grateful, but shows it through irritated grumbling.

He keeps seeing Sam in the corner of his eye, but she doesn’t walk up to them. It’s sweet of her to wait for his answer, but he'd rather act like his phone doesn't exist. Ashley, on the other hand, joins them after a while to rediscuss how everything’s wrong with _Prometheus_. He supposes that, at this point, the two of them have seen the movie about 5 times just to get the image of how bad it was.

Josh is a good friend and doesn’t mention that Chris keeps a Blu-Ray of it under his bed. And a rolled up poster.

He’s fifth-wheeling them again, and isn’t really up for it. He wishes for them to finally get together so that they would actually tell him when they want to be left alone. As of now, he has to read the mood, and it would be less exhausting if he was better at it.

He feels like shit. Every person who brushes against him as he makes his way back to the bathroom irritates him absurdly. He would love to just go home and sulk a little in his bed. Listen to The Cure and fantasize about getting every line of _Homesick_ tattooed on the skin on his chest, so that he wouldn’t have to answer every pointless “How are you feeling?” with words, but by lifting his shirt instead.

He should probably start searching for someone to kiss at midnight. Someone pretty. Pretty enough to make him not only forget Sam’s taste, but also to get him through the next few weeks he’s going to spend in Cranleigh.

He needs to make up an excuse for his absence. Maybe he’ll say that he’s helping his dad with the movie. Nobody is going to care enough to check it, especially since he's about to break Sam's heart or whatever.

She won't be sulking for too long, he hopes. He knows.

Better in the long run.

 

\---

 

He's hanging out with some nice-looking guy. Daniel, he remembers. Advanced English. No more note-borrowing if this goes beyond simple touches. Unless he's playful. Oh, how Josh wishes he was. He doesn't feel like making enemies so close to graduation.

Time is dancing. They're dancing. He's good, a bit drunk. Josh is also a bit drunk, so they sway in a similar fashion.

The blood in his veins synchronizes its pounding with the music, and every chorus consisting mostly of “eeeh-oooh” makes him want to forget himself more. It's loud, highly rhythmical, and he's many kinds of hot, but there's a lump of ice forming somewhere between his lungs.

He cannot bear it. He’s always hated the cold.

He closes the distance, mouths biting into each other, teeth clashing, fingers digging into arms, breaths hitching, Daniel's eyes shutting in pleasure-pain, Josh's snapping wide in search of someone who isn't there.

There’s a guilty sense of relief bubbling somewhere in the back of his brain, and he moans.

The song ends, and the pause that follows seems too long to be unintentional.

There's Matt's voice in it, defensive. There's Mike's yelling, and Emily's hysteric cries.

There's Sam's yelp and a cacophonous splash of water.

 

\---

 

It’s just a fucking pool. It’s heated, shallower than the one back at his own house, and it’s fucking 60 degrees outside. And yet everyone is acting like Sam’s just almost drowned and they had to fish her out from the bottom of some freaking ocean. Some guy, who gave her a jacket, acts like he’s just punched a shark protecting her, instead of helping her stand up.

Emily is yelling at someone for vining, Matt keeps apologizing and Mike ran away somewhere, probably too drunk to even react properly.

Sam’s standing there, laughing, dripping wet, telling everyone to chill. She’s blinking rapidly, smudged make-up irritating her eyes, trying to squeeze the water out of her hair. The dress clings to her glistening body in ways which make him _very_ uncomfortable. Her feet are bare.

Mike returns with Jessica and a fluffy white towel. The guy drapes it around her, helps her get loose strands of hair out of her mouth. They smile at each other.

“Damn, that guy is wasting no time,” whispers Daniel, impressed, straight into Josh’s ear, trying to get his attention. Josh feels him shimmy away somewhere else when he doesn’t react.

Jessica and Emily lead Sam back into the house, away from the grasp of the creeper. She waves him goodbye. He keeps staring after her.

This is just what Josh wished for tonight, right? For someone to comfort him temporarily, for Sam to get over him as soon as possible, for everyone to leave him alone. This is perfect. It’s normal to not be happy about it, because he did want to get together with her, so he’s not happy, that would be crazy, that would be masochism, but since he can’t, you know, be with her, he’s content. Content with being content. Yeah.

The music starts playing again. The world keeps turning. There’s a hand on his shoulder.

“Bro? Everything ok? You’re a bit pale. Wanna go sit down for a sec?”

It’s Chris. He’s grateful it’s him.

 

\---

 

He gets his shit together a bit later. Gets it together so well, that Ashley stops sending pitying glances his way every few minutes. So well, that they leave him alone again.

The unanswered text message blazes in his pocket like a snake on fire. It’s tempting, but he’d rather not burn his hand trying to mess with it. He should probably stop drinking or start writing these brilliant metaphors down.

Sam returns a quarter to midnight, dressed in what he realizes must be Emily’s tunic. Her hair is still damp, pinned up into a messy bun. She’s wearing Em’s signature golden flip-flops.

The Asshole approaches her, holding her shoes like it’s some shitty trophy, and kneels before her. Jesus-fucking-Christ.

She helps him stand up, laughing, and Hannah takes the wet shoes from her like she’s a helpful fairy, which he knows she believes she is. Beth makes gagging gestures when their eyes meet. He almost cracks a smile, then turns away.

 

\---

 

The countdown is on, the garden lights are off, and he’s starting to panic again.

They’re all together, squeezed like sardines as Chris and Matt try to light up the fireworks on the other side of the backyard. He’s lost Sam in the crowd, and he’s not sure if he wants to find her.

No, of course she does, he doesn’t want her to be pinned down by the Asshole by the end of the night. He’s been selfish all his life, why not now? Why not in this case? Why not with her? Why not this one last time?

He looks around, but everything is hazy, every fucking girl has blonde hair, and the Asshole is the most basic motherfucker he’s ever seen. He’s being ridiculous. He should stop. He’s not being responsible. He’s being reckless. He’s in love.

Will it upset her if he gets to her? Will it confuse her? Or maybe she doesn’t actually care, maybe he over-analyzed her feelings, maybe she’s over it, a hiss of premature fireworks, a bang, a flash of light, a familiar blue bracelet, and then-

He pulls her away, forces to take a step back. She stumbles, confounded, deafened by the roar of everyone around them. His hand around her wrist feels _right_ , and when the fireworks set the sky on fire, he swallows hard.

He leads her back to the house, away from everyone, especiallyfrom someone who probably wants to punch him in the face right now. She leans back against the window and turns green, then blue, and then green again, so he knows that time is passing, but he doesn’t seem to need the air that he's trapped inside of his clenched throat.

Her eyes bore into his.

“What’s your damage, Josh?” she asks, completely taken aback.

“Well, you said you wanted to talk. I do, too.”

“Now?” she raises her voice to the point of yelling, not at all because of the vocal appreciation for Emily’s money being quite literally shot up in the air and exploding.

He shrugs.

What was he going to tell her exactly?

“What are you going to tell me, exactly? Remind me how much whatever happened at the lodge didn’t matter to you?”

“It did matter to me.”

“You don’t say,” she grumbles, looking a lot less surprised than he imagined. Actually, not at all surprised.

“What?”

“Well, I supposed that the temporary relief of our pent-up sexual tension wasn’t _just hormones_ to you.”

He closes his eyes.

“Well, this is embarrassing. That was pretty much the only thing I wanted to tell you.”

“Was it?”

“Yeah.”

“Great that that’s cleared up then,” she snarls.

The sourness of her smile is softened by the concern in her eyes. She licks her lips.

“So… can I go back now?”

“Well, yeah, I’m sure he’s waiting for you.” He wants to punch himself in the face as soon as he’s done saying it.

“Who? Oh, Aaron. He’s just my cousin.”

“Really?”

“No, I just wanted to see the relief in your face. I was this close to hooking up with him.”

He laughs, helplessly. She tilts her head like a bird, pleased. He loves her neck. Her smile. Her red toenails.

She walks up to him, and he catches her hand in his.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” he responds automatically.

“I get that you’re scared. I’m scared, too. Even more so.”

“Doubt that.”

She squeezes his fingers painfully.

“Don’t. I’m putting four friendships on the line here.”

“Hannah, Beth, me... do you count whatever sick relationship you have with our jacuzzi as a friendship?”

“I’m going hiking with your mother next week, smart ass. Be nicer to me.”

“I’m always nice to you, Sammy. I just… I just can’t do this right now.”

For a second he thinks she’s going to leave him. In the next he’s sure of it, because she takes her hand away. In the third she puts it on his heart and kisses him gently on the lips.

“We’ll figure something out.”

He believes her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this took me a while (I wrote two other fanfics in the meantime, yikes!), but I hope it was worth it? Well, at least it's long! I'm not 100% happy with this but hopefully we can move on to some nicer stuff soon. Nice and fluffy!  
> Let me know what you thought, please!


	8. But when we get together we have nothin' but fun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for the one-time change of POV in the second drabble! Also I hope you don't mind that I'm returning to the drabble formula, I don't feel like posting drabbles seperately.

_ September, 2010 _

The sun is shining brightly enough to make everyone lose it, but not Sam. Or maybe especially Sam. He’s not quite sure. All he knows is that she somehow made him come outside in this unbearable heat, and he can’t even force his poor, boiling brain to think of a way out.

“There, kitty-kitty, there… come on, stupid Joshua didn’t want to scare you, he’s just a clumsy dumb-dumb,” she coos, and he knows she can’t even see the stupid creature, because it’s too far up, but if she would shut up for a few seconds, he would be able to hear its piercing screeching.

Josh hates cats. A lot. And now he hates her just as much.

“I’m not a clumsy dumb-dumb,” he opposes, voice still rough from sleep. “How was I supposed to know that it was hiding behind the trash?”

“You stepped on that baby’s tail, you monster!” hisses Sam, flat chest heaving with disgust.

“It’s just a cat. It knows how to get back down if it wants to. Chill, Samantha. Leave it.”

“I’d rather _die_ ,” she says, and he knows she means it. What an utter loony.

“I’d rather _sleep_ , so just… you know what? Move.”

She glares at him.

“Move, I said. I’m going to save that meowing asshole just to shut you up.”

The only reaction it gets him is her sour grin. He walks past her ostentatiously and desperately tries to remember anything about climbing. He wasn’t a nature enthusiast growing up - still isn’t - so he comes up short. He figures he’s going to have to depend on the hopefully-not-that-forgotten muscle memory inherited from his monkey ancestors. At least he thinks that’s how evolution works. 

He can’t even make it to the second branch.

If Sam was a petty person, she would be laughing. Instead, she offers him her hand as he jumps down.

“We’re lucky it’s not a palm tree. I think I can do it if you give me a leg up, I can’t jump high enough to reach anything,” she muses, stretching.

“No way, it’s too dangerous,” Josh opposes, but he’s not sure whether it’s concern or his pride talking.

She shrugs. There’s confidence in the way she patiently waits for him to obey her. It would be kinda hot if she wasn’t a kid.

“Alright, fine. If you get yourself killed I’m _not_ taking care of the cat, though. I’m allergic.”

“How were you going to get the cat down, then? By sneezing at it?”

She is surprisingly strong and dexterous for someone so tiny. She moves with elegance and precision, and he can’t help but admire her. Completely unrelated to the way he usually admires women. Naked women. Very adult women in no way acquainted with his sister. Her ass looks good in that training suit, though. It’s aesthetically pleasing.

He can hear the rustling of leaves, her soothing voice as she calls out for the cat, and, huh, she’s not really that bad. She was irritating him with her sudden constant presence in his house, but besides being his least favourite type of person,  _miss positive_ , she really wasn’t doing anything that annoying in his vicinity. As long as she makes Hannah happy, he is willing to-

He sees her foot as it slips, and he knows exactly what’s going to happen next.

He mentally curses himself for not joining Mike in the gym, even if it’s five minutes away from where he lives. It’s a bit hard to feel motivated when everything in your head keeps telling you you’re worthless, but he could use both the endorphins and the muscular arms, especially now.

He’s got really no one but himself to blame when the cat eventually makes her lose her footing again, and he winces when the furry devilspawn lands on his shoulder and runs away, scraping him painfully. But that’s nothing compared to the sudden weight pinning him to the ground so hard he loses breath.

They groan in unison.

Her face is all scratched up and sweaty, eyes wide open, as if she was seeing him for the first time, and when she tries to get up, he remembers that he’s in his boxers, and she can definitely feel his traitorous erection through the thin fabric of her leggings.In his defense, he’s fifteen, she’s not as breastless as he thought she was, and her  _lady_ - _parts_ are stimulating his groin, whether she intends to do so or not.

Neither of them mention it when he pushes her off him.

 

\---

 

_ December, 2010 _

The Washington manor, as Josh usually calls it, had its perks. The jacuzzi, the gigantic pool, the oatmeal cookies their maid, Anna, bakes every Wednesday, the biggest TV screen she’s ever seen, she could go on, and on, and on. There is only one detail she didn’t quite enjoy.

Everyone in their family is over 5’8”. 

Sam is 5’2”. 

This might not seem like that big of a problem. She is used to everyone being taller than her; she even knows how to use it to her advantage - both in flirting and self-defense. There isn’t, however, much dignity in not being able to touch most of the shelves.

“Don’t worry, Sam,” says Beth one evening, her hand brushing the top of her head as she takes out milk from the fridge. “One day Gandalf will come and take you for an adventure. Your height will be to your advantage against the dreadful Smaug!”

“Damn it, Sammy, where did you hide the last box of Lucky Charms this time?” grumbles Hannah drowsily every other morning.

“Is _Sam_ short for Samwise?” asks Josh one time, with a straight face and a glint in his eye.

She can only react with what Hannah likes to call ‘her resting Emily face’, but the fact that she is a midget among the giants remains and continues to embarrass her each time she tries to be independent enough to pour herself a glass of water.

Josh in particular seems to enjoy exploiting her weakness. He offers to give her a boost every time they meet in the kitchen, always compares their height in the most obnoxious way possible, like a giraffe with body-image issues, always ruffles her hair as if she’s some kind of pet. He even picks her up once, and it leaves a tickling sensation on her waist for the rest of the day.

So it is understandable for her to feel confused when she one day sees a purple stool, with “Sammy” carved in perfect cursive letters on the top, standing next to the oven. It isn’t a normal thing to happen. It’s not like the Washingtons need more furniture. The purple doesn’t even match the minimalistically white design. 

“The hell,” she mumbles, creeping closer to it, and she’s about to call out for Hannah to hurry up when she hears footsteps. It’s Josh, coming out of the basement with a smudge of purple paint on his nose. She’s too busy frowning in bewilderment to mention it. He grins.

“So? How do you like it?” he asks without preamble.

“Hello to you, too,” she snorts. “Did you make it? For me?”

“Well, I was going to write _Thumbelina_ on it, but it didn’t fit, so it might as well be yours.”

“Oh my god.”

He laughs. Her face is frozen in a mixture of annoyance and amusement.

“Thank you… I suppose?”

“Don’t mention it, I needed to take a break from Hannah’s Christmas gift.”

“Oh, so that’s all I’m gonna get from you? Some painted _wood_? Don’t!”, she stops him when he opens his mouth with his usual smug expression.

He laughs again, and she dodges his hand when he tries to ruffle her hair.

She ostensibly gets up on the stool and takes out two glasses from the cupboard. She then proceeds to pour water into them ceremoniously, glancing at him, daring to make a comment.

He drinks, smirking, and only now does she notice how many cuts there are on his fingers, how the bags under his eyes make it seem like he didn’t sleep for days, how his hair looks too unkempt for it to be on purpose. Something twists in her stomach.

“Um,” she starts tentatively. “Thanks, Josh. For thinking about me.”

“No worries. Now you just need a pillowcase and you can be our proper house elf.”

He escapes back to the basement before she can find a proper retort.

 

\---

 

_August, 2011_

Lollapalooza is simply amazing.

The fact that he and Sam lose the rest of the gang right before the Arctic Monkeys start playing is less so. Still, being able to see the stage from up close is pretty neat.

The first notes of  _Brianstorm_ make him excited. He loves it here. He loves the crowd pressing at him from all sides, he loves how it makes him feel like he’s a part of something bigger, maybe not a community, but maybe an  _army_ , and he loves Matt Helders’ flamboyant way of _kicking ass_ and soon he forgets himself completely. 

When it comes the time for  _Crying Lightning_ he’s numb and his Converse-clad feet hurt from dancing and other people’s even more  _expressive_ dancing, and he thinks he’s immune to both pain and touch, but he’s somehow able to note Sam’s hold on his wrist.

He glances at her. She looks even smaller than usual in her oversize black t-shirt and red shorts. She seems to be having fun, and she would look pretty damn good if the crowd around them would stop swallowing her whole like a particularly vengeful ocean.

He sighs internally and waits for the pause between the songs.

“Sam?”

“What?” she yells, even though there’s no need to do so. Right, he remembers, she’s not the type to listen to such music as loudly as you can; she must be a little deaf right now.

“Sit on my shoulders, I don’t want to lose you!”

That was a bit too dramatic. She blushes - but most likely because of the heat and the sweat or whatever.

He’s really got no patience for her her hesitation.

He kneels before her for the first time in his life (and judging by how nice her smooth thighs feel on the sides of his head, not the last) and stands up with her sitting steadily, her shapely legs tucked behind his back. She’s heavier than he expected, soft and warm. Her sweat smells of something pleasant, like grass and honey.

The thought appears and disappears in a blink, but leaves him with a sense of him being way too creepy, even for his own standards.

She plays with his hair idly as they wobble together to the sound of guitar riffs and gripping lyrics. The vocalist is very energetic, and so is Sam, and it takes every bit of his self-restraint not to think of her vagina brushing against the back of his neck. 

He feels his face growing hot. He can’t even unload the tension with jokes, because every time her fingers accidentally stroke the edge of his ears, he gets so distracted he forgets to even listen to the band, not to mention form a coherent thought.

It's weird, right? Because she’s his sister’s friend. And his own friend. So.

Yeah, definitely weird.

Must be the heat.

He tells himself the exact same thing when he later carries her to their hotel in the slightly chilly air of the night, her sleeping head resting on his shoulder.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I vehemently condone sitting on people's shoulders during concerts. Don't do that. Write fanfiction about your OTP doing it, if you fantasize about it often, but don't you fucking do that irl.


	9. I take two steps forward, you take two steps back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bonus tiny fluffballs to maybe make your evening better.

It crosses his mind that they are a little bit too close for just friends maybe once or twice. Sure, he and Sam spend a lot of time together, but almost never by themselves, always with his sisters or their mutual friends. Sure, they give each other Valentine’s Day gifts, but they’re never serious. Sure, he does harbor a slight crush on her, but he’s more than fine with it being one-sided. At least she’s a good sport and seems to enjoy their flirtatious conversations just as much as he does.

There are moments which give him pause, of course.

-

They’re desperately trying to find a last minute birthday gift for Jessica, and the mall has just opened, but the party is in a few hours so they need to hurry. Sam is wearing a white, lacy top, and he can make out the outline of her turquoise bra, and she keeps getting flustered about it. The escalator is moving way too slow for her tastes, so she takes two steps ahead of him, and now they’re on the same eye level. He almost wants to let her cherish this moment, but towering above her makes him feel _things_. So he takes a step further, and she takes another, facing him, and they’re laughing at the silliness of it all, and she doesn’t even notice when the next floor starts, so she stumbles, and he catches her, and holds her close. Her heart is thundering in her chest, and so does his. He strokes her hair until she calms down, and then a little longer.

-

They’re having their usual movie night, and somewhere between Tatooine and Geonosis the twins fall asleep, and since he is hoarding the popcorn, she nests herself on his side.

Anakin loses his hand, and Josh almost misses that scene, because her head is on his chest, and she’s so enthralled in the movie that her fingers don’t always find their way into the bowl in his lap, but stroke his belly instead. Her arms are so short that she has to stretch in order to reach it, and her breasts keep brushing against his skin, and he can tell that she has no bra under her PJs, so this situation is rated R for _rapid heartbeat_.

-

The laundry smells of the ocean and he wonders whether he’s got enough motivation to actually go to the beach with everyone today or not. He starts cramming his t-shirts into the wardrobe, but a flash of red makes him stop. He doesn’t own a single red thing.

He browses through the pile of clothes with a sigh, because a) he’s a good older brother and b) he doesn’t want to give his sisters an excuse to start coming to his room and search through his stuff.

Aside from the crimson tank top he knew was Beth’s, he also finds Hannah’s black shirt she never wears in public (but he often sees her try it on) and a tiny version the shirt he owns himself (Arctic Monkeys, North America Tour 2011, 100% cotton, a bit worn out).

The latter must belong to Sam, since she was staying over last weekend (as well as this one because of some stupid science project) and he knows she’s terribly forgetful. It’s not even the first time this happens, but he’s not annoyed in the least. He only regrets that it doesn’t smell like her.

He shakes his head, pitying himself, and leaves his room before he gets any stupid ideas. He walks into the laundry room with purpose, and since it’s 4 am he doesn’t expect to find anyone there.

He’s quite wrong.

Sam is standing right in front of him, wearing a bigger version of the shirt he’s carrying in his hands right now, her nose buried in its collar.

It’s way too big for her. Way, way too big. She still manages to make it look fantastic, most likely because it only covers her completely naked legs mid thigh.

His mouth is dry. He should say something. Make fun of her. Tease her. Compliment her legs. Run.

Her face is so red he can feel its heat from where he's standing. God. Not kissing her this moment would be a sin. A crime. It would actually make this less awkward.

He throws the clothes her way, and when she catches them, he utters: "I want mine back!"

He only wants to die of shame for about a week afterwards, to his credit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As of 13.12.15: You can expect an update before the end of the year :)

**Author's Note:**

> On tumblr: [here]() or [here :)]()


End file.
